Sommerfeld: 230km/h on two wheels

Superbike champ treats writer – who's scared of Ferris wheels – to a few thrills on the track

Jul 04, 2009

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Special to the Star

If you've ever watched professional Superbike racing, you've probably realized several things. These riders must be dedicated. They must be excellent. They must be crazy.

I will admit it – I'd never considered that I might like to take a ride on an extremely fast motorcycle on a racetrack as it was being piloted through hairpin turns and violent straightaways. Until, of course, the opportunity arose, and I didn't hesitate.

SOAR is the Southern Ontario Association of Racing, and Scott Rupert is its current leader in three racing classes. In order to raise money for the Injured Riders Fund, Rupert has fitted his Thermocomfort Suzuki GSXR1000 with an extra set of pegs and a handlebar to enable him to take a passenger around the Toronto Motorsports Park race track in Cayuga. They're called Two-Up rides.

In my head, I imagined something kind of like a tandem bike. I know, I know. When I showed up at the track, I saw a race bike with a tiny little seat for my bum, up behind the rider's seat, and a wee 12-inch-long, three-quarter-inch-round piece of pipe welded to the gas cap. Yes, I would be reaching around the rider, grabbing that bar and holding on for dear life.

Organizers told me repeatedly that Rupert is a sweetheart of a guy, who actually volunteered to do this as a fundraiser. And not just for press, but for the public on three summer Saturdays at the end of race day, including next Saturday. They told me, quite truthfully, that he looked like Ron Howard. As I approached the pit area to meet him, all I could think was Opie was going to kill me.

Decked out in full borrowed leathers, boots, gloves and a helmet, I casually announced that I would like a Sissy Lap first. I wanted to take the first lap at cruising speed, and Rupert had the good manners to nod and not let me see him laughing.

"Okay, up you get," he said kindly. I stared at the seat, which was about waist level.

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen gracefully," I noted. They got me a stool.

Riding a motorcycle with a passenger on board is different than piloting one solo. I figured Rupert wouldn't be doing any of that leaning over stuff with me on the back. I figured wrong, as we leaned into every corner, me yelping like a chihuahua on the back. As we approached the top of the track, he gave me a thumbs-up and a nod, for me to indicate that things were good. I decided I could handle this, and gave him a little hug.

And that's when we got up to speed. Told later we got to 230 km/h, all I knew was that my heart and stomach changed places, and I was holding onto that little handlebar knowing that my life depended on it. It took me until the third lap to realize we were doing wheelies at various points around the track. Over 160 km/h, steering on one wheel with a woman who gets scared at the top of a Ferris wheel.

When you head into a corner, you brake. Hard. I had rapid, intimate knowledge of Rupert's backside, but before I could blush, we were off again. A series of hairpin turns brought the asphalt up close, and just when I dared to breathe the front tire would lift again.

Scott Rupert holds the track record time of 1:14.998. Our time for the same 3 km stretch? About 1:20.

Just enough time for my entire life to flash before my eyes.

Lorraine Sommerfeld's column appears Saturday in Wheels and Mondays in Living. www.lorraineonline.ca

Toronto Star